


As I Lay Dying

by ShipperInFandomland



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is a Little Shit, Crowley is a Little Shit, Dean Winchester POV, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, First Kiss, Flashbacks, John Winchester Being an Asshole, KO’s, M/M, Manipulative Castiel, POV First Person, Past-Present combined, Protective Dean Winchester, Suicide to save someone else, The Colt - Freeform, Why must someone always die?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperInFandomland/pseuds/ShipperInFandomland
Summary: Told in Dean’s POV, John comes back from the dead and is ready to kill. Dean must keep Sam safe while juggling Cad and John. When his memories intersect with reality, can he make the right choices?





	1. Why can’t the ghosts of my past stay dead?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is not mine, I just thought it was cool.

* * *

“Shoot him!” Dad bellowed. “Dad, please…” I cried. I have the Colt pointed at Cas’s chest. Dad is standing next to me. Cas is in front of me, shifting his gaze between us. “Dean…” Cas started. “You don’t get to speak, demon!” Dad yelled at Cas. Cas took a step back, afraid of his power. Dad was scary enough, even if he wasn’t behind the trigger. “Dad, he’s not a demon! He’s an angel!” I screamed through tears. Where was Sam? He should have been here by now! “And who told you that, hmm? Him?” Dad hissed, gesturing towards Cas, “He’s a demon, Dean! When did I raise such a dimwitted son?! Shoot him!” I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Hot tears flowed down my cheeks. My hands were shaking. I knew, in my head, only one of us would survive. Me or Cas. I stared through tears at Cas. He was so small, so afraid. I made up my mind. In one swift movement, I turned the gun around and pulled the trigger.

Let’s backtrack a bit.

Me and Sam had just finished a case. We were staying at a 2 star motel in Tiptonville, Tennessee for the night before going back to Bobby’s. Sam had gone out for food while I looked for our next case. After a few minutes of unsuccessful research, Sam walked in with two bags of food. “Did you get the pie?” I asked as he set the food on the table. “They didn't have pie, so I got cake instead.” He replied. “ No pie?!” I said in disbelief. Everyone had pie! “Fine then, I'll go to the store and get some.” “Dean..” Sam started, but it was no use. I grabbed my coat and headed towards the door. “ I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I walked briskly out into the cool night air. The parking lot was mainly empty, save for a few cars. A few lamp posts dotted around the lot, glowing softly against the darkness. As I walked to the Impala, Something moved in the corner of my eye. I turned to look, but nothing was there. I walked a little faster. I stepped into the Impala and turned over the engine. I drove down the the little banged-up corner mart near the highway and strode inside.

A broken green and white tile floor zig-zagged in between rows of sugar and soda. The walls boasted a baby blue coating, though it was torn in many places. I selected a nice blueberry pie from one of the aisles and walked swiftly to the cashier. The cashier shook his head when I went to pay. When I asked why, he said that it was already paid for. _So, someone knew I was coming_. The thought gave me shivers. I was making my way back to the motel when I saw the shadow again. This time it was a little more clear. It had the build of a man, and its head was turned to me, as if it was studying me as I drove by. There wasn’t enough light to make out the features. I made it back to the room and locked the door. “You found the pie?” Sam asked. “Yeah.” I sat down at the wooden two-person table. I took off the plastic cover as Sam set a fork next to me. He knew from experience that I wasn’t going to get one myself and without one I would eat with my hands. Sam flopped on one of the teal beds and opened up his computer. “Hey Sam?” “Yeah?” “ Have you felt that someone was following you lately?” I asked between bites. He turned his head to look at me. “Not recently, why?” “ ‘Cause I feel like I got a friggin’ stalker on my tail.” A new voice interrupted before Sam could answer. “So you’ve seen him?”

The new voice came from behind me. I whipped around to find...Cas. “Hey Cas.” Sam mumbled. The last time we had seen Cas was a year ago, when Sam was turned into a moose by a very angry Djinn (don't ask). “Hello Sam.” Cas replied, looking at Sam. He turned back to me and asked me again. “So you’ve seen him?” “Who?” I answered, staring into his eyes. Though his face was blank, his eyes had a look of panic and fear. Whatever “he” was, he was bad. Cas took a shaky breath. “These next words will create anger and confusion. Do not become obsessed with this or something very bad will happen.” “C’mon Cas, just tell us!” This was getting annoying. “His name is…” Cas shut his eyes. “John Winchester”


	2. June 1991 (Singer Residence)

“Goodnight Sammy” I whispered as I pulled the blankets over Sammy’s little body. “Goodnight Dean” came the reply. I walked to the door, pulling it open. “I love you.” a small voice called after me. “I love you too, Sammy.”I slipped out into the hallway and gently shut the door. I was walking past the stairs when the back door slammed shut. I went down a little ways before stopping. Looking over the rail, I saw Dad stagger in. Bobby stood up from where he was sitting in the library and walked over. “Where’s Sam?” Dad asked. “John, you’re drunk.” Bobby replied. “Where is he?! Where is Sam?!!” Dad thundered, “ It’s all his fault! He brought the demon into my house! He killed Mary! He killed my wife!”. Bobby looked up at where I was sitting and mouthed “Hide” to me while Dad continued to rant about how Sammy killed Mom. Sweet, innocent Sammy.

Slowly, I stood up and started to make my way up the stairs.On the last step I stepped on a creaky board. A loud “Creeeeeeaaaak” sounded throughout the house. Dad fell silent, and the house sat in an eerie silence. “Upstairs.” Dad whispered. “John, no!” I heard Bobby yell. Dad’s heavy boots stomped on the wooden floor. I sprinted to Sammy’s bedroom and opened the door. Shutting it quiety, I rushed over to Sammy and shook him awake. I pulled him to the closet and shut the door. “Dean? What’s happening?” “Don’t make a sound. No matter what happens, don’t make a sound.” I glanced into Sam’s scared little eyes through the slits of the door. “You’ll be okay” I assured him. Then I crawled into Sam’s bed and pulled the blankets over my head. I prayed Dad would be too drunk to tell the difference.

The door to the bedroom flew open with a crash. The blankets were yanked off and Dad’s fist rammed into my nose. Another landed on my eye, disorienting my vision. He grabbed me by the shirt and tossed me onto the floor. He kicked me into the stomach, causing me to cough up blood. Through my swollen eyes, I saw Bobby, who was now sporting a black eye, land a punch to Dad’s jaw, causing him to stagger backwards. “Closet. Get him out. Will hold off Dad.” I choked. Bobby ran to the closet and yanked a crying Sammy out off the room. Sam kept trying to get to me, but Bobby said Sammy needed to get out of here and that he would come get me when he was safe. Dad regained his balance and came back at me, grabbing the collar of my shirt and slamming me into the wall with one hand. The other he used to punch me in the stomach and face.

I so desperately wanted to scream, to yell at him to stop, but then he would know I wasn’t Sam. So I took the punches and the words Dad spat at me. That I was a disgrace. That I killed Mom and I was the reason our lives were so jacked up. The words felt like poison, but I stayed strong knowing that Sammy wasn't here to feel it. My vision started turning black as Bobby ripped Dad off of me and kicked him.As Dad howled from the pain, I dropped like a stone onto the floor. Bobby scooped me up and jogged down the stairs and out the back door. I was limp in his arms, hurting to bad to move. He carried me to shed a little ways from the house. He opened the door and set me on a chair. Sammy, who had been by the door, ran to my side. His puffy eyes told me that he’s been crying. “Dean!” he cried as he grabbed my hand. “Hey Sammy.” I croaked. Sammy looked into my swollen face. “You saved me. You’re my hero.”


	3. Cause life is just a walk in the park

“Dad? He’s here? How?” Sam asked. Cas opened his eyes. “I don't know, but it would be best to avoid him until we figure this out.” “Avoid him?! Our father came back from the dead and you expect us to stay away from him?” I barked, moving closer until I was two inches in front of his face. “I’m sorry Dean, but-” “No! I will not listen to some whiny sack of s*** when I can see my dead dad!” I shoved past him hard and grabbed my jacket. Cas tumbled to the ground and looked up at me. I shot a glance his way. Tears started to well up in his eyes. I had hurt him. Good. He deserved it. “Dean! What is wrong with you?” Sam yelled, helping Cas up. With a broken look upon his face, the angel quickly disappeared.

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with him?” I asked, pointing to the sky, “He said to stay away from Dad! From family!” “For good reason! We have no idea how Dad came back! We don’t know his motives either!” Sam countered. He looked away and took a deep breath. “Let’s call Bobby and figure out what is going on.” “Fine” I took out my phone and scrolled down to Bobby’s contact. I pressed call and the phone rang for a minute before a gruff voice answered. “Hello?” “Hey Bobby” I answered, “What are the ways someone can crawl back up from the pit alive?” “Well, the only way we know of is to get on the angel train back up. Why? Are you trying to raise someone? Because if you are-” “We’re not trying to raise anyone. But someone who should be in hell is back.” “Who?” I took a deep breath. “Dad. He’s alive” “What?!” “Yeah. Cas has no idea how he’s here.” “Cas? He came?” “Yeah. And he didn’t seem too happy about it either.” “Well, let’s bring Not-dead John here and figure out what’s going on.” “Alright. See you.” I hung up and looked at Sam. “What did he say?” He asked. “To get Dad and bring him to Bobby’s.”  
I walked out the door, Sam in tow. As we walked to the Impala, I thought about where Dad would be. A hotel? Dad wasn’t the sit-in-the-nest type. A bar? Most likely. The guy loved to drink. We stepped into the car and turned over the engine. “Where is the nearest bar?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the road. “About two miles down the road.” I slowly pulled out of the parking lot and into the road. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I asked the big question.“Are you ready to see Dad? Honestly?” “I-I don't know” Sam replied. We pulled up to the bar and walked inside.

A bachelor party had taken over the place, as there were a good number of men and very few women. The bar must have gone for that “Old Western” look, as everything, to the floor to the ceiling was wooden. The wooden barrel seats had red cushions on them.On the left, a bar stretched from one end to another. An old pool table stood at the back, where two very drunk men were playing (which was entertaining to watch, as neither of them could hit straight.). After a quick scan of the area, my eyes landed on a head full of black salt-and-pepper hair near the pool table. I nudged Sam and gestured with my head over to Dad. With a slight nod from Sam, we made our way around the drunk partiers and bachelors until we were standing only a few feet away. “How should we do this?” Sam whispered. “ Well, we can’t just offer him a beer. He’ll recognize us” “Maybe we could just knock him out?” Sam suggested. “Dude. Any more suggestions like that and I might think you lost your soul again.” “You got another idea?” I stared at him for a second. “Fine. But if this goes bad,” I said, jabbing a finger at his chest, “I’m blaming this on you.”

“Fair enough. But how do we knock him out without being suspicious?” “We could drug his drink?” “That might work. I’ll go get the Restoril from the car. You order him a beer.” I walked to the bar and signaled the barista. A few seconds later, a 20-something girl came over. Her red and black uniform complimented the black curls that fell down to her shoulders. Her brown eyes sparkled in the light. “ Well, looks like heaven is missing an angel.” She blushed slightly. She must be new. Guys will be hitting on her every day that she has this job. “What can I get you?” She asked, resting her hands on the wooden bar in between us. “Can I get a beer for that guy over there?” I waved my hand over to Dad. She smiled and grabbed a beer from the shelves behind her. “How much?” I asked, taking out my wallet. “On the house.” She gave me a wink before going back to the drunks who were trying to drink straight out of the spout. Picking up the generous gift, I shoved through the crowd to Sam, who was sitting at a booth near the wall. “You got the drink?” “Yeah.” I popped of the cap as Sam brought out a red and blue pill from his pocket.

He sliced the pill in half with a steak knife and poured the contents into the bottle. The liquid fizzled for a second before letting out one final pop. I screwed the cap back on and pushed my way through the crowd again. I set the beer near Dad and with a quick “On the house” I left and sat next to Sam. Dad gazed at the beer for a second before removing the cap and taking a swig. After a few minutes, he slumped over the table, asleep. I got Sam and we walked over and lifted Dad up. “Had too much to drink.” I shouted to the few people who actually cared. Most people were under the influence of beer, not really caring what was going on. We dragged Dad through the crowd and out into the parking lot. “What does he eat, bricks?” I complained, struggling under the weight. “He might be one.” Sam agreed. I let go of Dad and turned to open the back door to the Impala. “De-” Sam shouted before a crunching sound on the pavement cut him off. I spun around and felt a strike to my jaw before falling to the pavement. “Sam-” I started before the everything faded to black.


	4. When the past comes back to punch you in the nose

I woke up in a pitch black room. I tried to move out of the chair I was in, but I was tied down. My hands were tied behind my back, limiting my use of them. Multiple layers of rope stretched over my stomach. I reached to where the pocket with my knife should be, but I met with nothing but my shirt. Whoever tied me down took my jacket. Pain shot through my head as I remembered details. A figure standing over me as I blacked out. Sam laying on the hard pavement. Sam...Sam! “Sam!” I yelled. “Sammy!” An audible groan came from behind me. “Sam?” “Wha-Dean?” “You just wake up?” “Yeah” “You remember anything from last night?” “I remember falling onto the ground. And someone punching you.” I heard Sam struggling against the ropes holding him down. “We’re tied down?” “Yeah. And someone took my jacket and my knife.” The rustle of clothing told me that Sam was looking for his. “They took my knife as well.” Great. Can this day get any worse?

The light in the room flickered on, blinding me temporarily. Dad was leaning in the doorway of a floral motel room. A small kitchenette on the left, and a green queen bed on the right. It looked like that hotel room that Gabriel put me & Sam in while we were in TV land. Dad walked closer. “Thanks for keeping my jacket warm for me.” Dad said, dusting of the jacket. My jacket. “You son of a-” I started, only to have Dad’s fist connect with my jaw. The taste of blood intruded my mouth. “Now, is that any way to talk to your father?” I stared up at him. “How are you in dream-land?” “I know what a drugged drink smells like. Anyway, let’s cut the chitchat.” Dad said, leaning closer, “Who was the man with you at the bar?” “Who? No one was with us.” “A man was sitting at your table. He was sitting next to you!” Dad raised his voice until he was on the verge of yelling. “He even had your shirt on! You must have knew him!” “I don’t know who he is! I don’t know! I don’t-” Realization hit me. Cas.

I had given him one of my shirts when he wanted a change of clothes after he got drenched in vamp blood after a hunt. He must have been next to me, but invisible. But then, why didn’t he help when Dad knocked us out? And how could Dad see him? “Oh, so you do know.” Dad’s voice ripped me back to reality. “Tell me who that was or I start punching.” “Do whatever you want to me. I won’t talk.” “To you?” Dad laughed a creepy laugh, like a serial killer who is toying with their next victim. “I’m not going to hurt you. You can take it. But everyone has their weaknesses…” Dad shifted his gaze to Sam. “Don’t you dare.” “Little Sammy here will be just fine if you tell me who that man was.” I looked back at Sam the best I could. He had put on a brave face, but I could tell he was scared. “I’m sorry Sammy. I hope our angel will come help you.” He gave me a slight nod, which told me he understood my hint. Dad looked between us, trying to make out my hint. He walked over to Sammy and punched him. He kept punching. There was only one thing I could do.

“Dear Castiel, get your winged butt down here and help us!” I prayed. A few seconds later, the lights flickered and the door flung open to reveal Cas, in all his trench-coated glory. Dad had my knife out in a second. “You!” Dad yelled as flew at him. Cas grabbed him by the shirt and flung him into the wall. Dad crumpled down on the ground. While Dad was down, he rushed over to untie my bonds. “Thanks Cas” I said. I honestly didn’t think he would come. He had finished untieing my hands when he jerked back. The tip of a knife pointed out from his stomach. I continued untying the rope around my waist. He disappeared a few moments later. Dad stood there, a little confused and triumphant. “It didn’t look like that killed him. We’re going after that son of a b****. I’ll get the car started then come get you two.” He left as I loosened the last knot. I pushed the ropes over my head and turned around for Sam. Blood trickled down his chin. His face was covered in black and blue patches. His eye was swollen. “Sam! Sammy!” I unraveled the knots on his hands and back. He fell forward, me catching him just before he hit the floor. I grunted from the weight. “Dude. I thought you only ate salads.” He was out cold. I propped him back into the chair so that he didn’t get a faceful of carpet. Dad is going to be back any minute, I thought. I looked around for something heavy that could knock him out. The only thing was a frying pan. “Time to go Rapunzel on your a**” I whispered.

I slid over to the doorway, pressing my back to the wall. I heard footsteps coming towards the door. As they got nearer, the footsteps slowed until they were barely audible. Only when I saw the tip of Dad’s hair did I make my move. I lept out of my hiding place and swung the frying pan baseball-style into Dad’s surprised face. His head jerked to the side as he tumbled down. I checked to make he was fully out this time before I took my jacket back. I grabbed his arms and started dragging him towards the car. I heaved him into the backseat compartment (A little area under the back row of seats, blocked off by a little trapdoor. The area is just big enough to hide a body and can also lock. It has been very useful on occasions such as this). I locked him in, then went back for Sam. He had fallen out of the chair when I got there. I pulled him too and set him up in shotgun. I buckled him up. “Just like when you were little, right Sammy?”. He snored in reply. I sat down in the driver’s seat and turned over the engine. This was going to be a long drive.


End file.
